Leah Mordecai eBook

to any deed of darkness. To this latter class
belonged Joe Haralson, the well-known captain of the
Tigress, the most successful blockade-runner on all
the southern coast. Haralson himself was a native
of one of the fertile cotton islands off the coast
of the Palmetto State, and, in an hour of danger, had
deserted his country, and fled to the West Indies.
There he equipped a vessel for blockade-running, and
being familiar with much of the southern coast, he
was always successful in eluding the guns of the blockading
fleets, and entering safely with his cargo. The
supplies of merchandise, and the munitions of war
that he occasionally landed, were exchanged for cotton,
which he sold for gold at a fabulous profit.

It was the summer after the removal of Mr. Mordecai’s
family to Inglewood. In the month of June, Joe
Haralson anchored the Tigress safely within the port
of Havana. New Providence was his usual harbor
of refuge; but now, other business than the successful
disposal of his cargo of cotton had brought him thither.
One soft, sweet morning, in this land where spring
and summer alternate, Leah had been out driving with
her husband, enjoying the early morning breeze, and
hoping that it would benefit the delicate little Sarah,
then in her second summer. They drew near the
Plaza de la Mar, and Emile remarked, as he surveyed
the endless rows of shipping:

“There, Leah, see the countless numbers of flags.”

“Yes, all but the flag of our struggling country,”
she replied. “I wonder if that will ever
become a recognized flag among nations?”

On reaching home, Emile kissed his wife, and softly
kissed his sleeping baby too, before alighting from
the light volante; and then, throwing the lines to
Petro, the slave, who was awaiting their return, he
said, “Take care of the pony, Petro;” and
turning to his wife—­“You take care
of my wee lamb, Leah, till I come again,” and
left them.

“Yes,” replied Mr. Gardner. “Here,
Mr. Le Grande, this man wants to see you.”
Emile approached, and looking curiously at the stranger,
observed that he was clad partly in sailor’s,
partly in citizen’s clothes. “What
will you have, sir?” demanded Emile.

“Se¤or,” replied the strange man, whose
broken English betrayed his Spanish tongue, “Dere
is at da w’arf Blanco Plaza, a ’Merican
vessel from da States. A seik frien’ wish
to see se¤or Le Grande, very quick, very quick, se¤or.”

“From what State does the vessel come?”
asked Emile in astonishment.

“From da Soutern State, se¤or, da Pa’metto
State.”

In a moment Emile conjectured that it was some blockade-runner,
and supposed some friend or relative had arrived,
and, being unable to come on shore, had indeed sent
for him. Without waiting to consider, and without
further explanation, he accompanied the strange guide,
who led the way to the wharf. The flags were floating
free and gay, yet as this nameless cicerone pointed
out the Tigress, that lay before them with flag staff
bare, Emile Le Grande thought, “The captain
is afraid to show his colors; well he may be.”